Latest Poem

  • A Thousand Wishes

    A thousand wishes
    Reminiscent of dresses
    Hung in the closet
    Of a studio apartment

    On her half while his
    Held suits and slacks
    And black dread where the
    Colorblind saw comfort

    On the elevator up
    There’s glass between
    You and the city
    While you rise

    Each little street
    Divides itself to
    The horizon growing
    Pink with sunset lines

    Wisp of the scent
    Mist of the bent
    Rays of light as

    This couple eloped
    They couldn’t see
    But stoked frostfire
    Of every evening

    With the dread of
    Tomorrow loving
    Lessons from yesterday
    Like the mirror in between

    Their racks
    Separated by the fact
    That she was vibrant
    And he wasn’t

    It was the holes
    In the walls she couldn’t
    See that concerned him
    So entirely

    Black of secrets and
    Greys of dismay
    More than what stitches
    Seams of her sweaters

    Like the sky was green
    And ever swirling
    With a void craving
    Consumption of knowing

    Onthology her passion
    Even if his wasn’t resonant
    She tried to paint what
    He saw

    Tried to match the
    Holes in the walls
    That weren’t
    The windows

    When he didn’t worry
    He stared at the streets
    On the way from work
    Or getting groceries

    Enthralled by the shades
    Of green so pervasive
    When set as the backdrop
    For his happy little life

    So she would put on a new color
    “Anything you wish”
    She said and was disappointed
    When she heard “black” from him

    Were it a beauty misused
    Or a foreboding optimism
    Let loose
    That it shook the color apart

    Clouds in the sky
    But it wouldn’t rain to him
    Even as she crawled into
    Bed with book and drink

    He’d sit in solace at the window
    And only think
    Of all the things that are

    Missing all the wishing
    That she had done
    To be with him
    And him alone

    In the end was it worth it
    If she could save him
    It might be but right now
    Is not the most colorful

    He played to the tunes
    Of reduced music
    Stark whites were sown
    Into the wallpaper

    Yet she could always see
    It as yellow
    Not skipping a beat
    And trying to make meadows

    That her beloved could see
    So consumed was he
    By political worries
    And economic gleans

    It rarely seemed that he
    Was there
    But if you ever asked
    He’d say he saw it

    Playing in the meadows
    Of whatever god

    His own meadows of
    Cosmic green of envy
    Over not knowing what
    Color looks like

    Broodom nearly helped
    Him find it himself
    Develop the optics
    To find that heaven

    For he wished to see
    What she did but without
    Her eyes he would have
    Already been lost

Year One and Before

for poems from August 2015 and before. A bulk of my angstier, developing content. It’s a nice little time trip.



Year Two

for things written from September 2015 to August of 2016. This one encompasses what could possibly be described as my last truly carefree days.



Year Three

for things coming out of September 2016 to July 2017. Another breakup, some strange figures from years past, some more connections.


Year Four

for poetry that started in August of 2017. Old blood being drawn left and right. New relationships. Other fun things, for sure.



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